Hmph.

I was supposed to go to track practice yesterday, but I was feeling slightly icky (not sick…I’m fairly certain this  has something to do with the change in weather) so I reconsidered. Perhaps a speed workout in 90 degree heat might not be the ticket.

Hmph.

I called Scott, because he’s my BS/wimpiness detector. I half expected him to say, “you already brought your stuff, just go to the track and get it over with,” but instead he surprised me by agreeing with me. He suggested that I go run at the gym (in the semi-coolness) instead so I wouldn’t miss a day. Sounds good.

On the way home, I had that endless battle with disinclination. The gym is literally on my way, and as I neared the exit the rationalization starts. “Wouldn’t it be nice just go home and catch up on cleaning writing letters reading playing Lego Star Wars? You can run tomorrow. Or the day after that…or sometime…if you’re not feeling well, the best thing for you is probably rest, anyway.”

Hmph!

By sheer force of will, I managed to get Rambo off the highway and to the gym. As I pulled in to the parking lot, I was jubilant. Success! Look at me, the dedicated runner! Yippee! I nearly skipped into the gym and danced my way to the locker room. I pulled all of my workout clothes out of my (Paris Mountain 11k Trail Run 2008 Award Winner…not that I’m proud ) bag. Shorts, check. Shoes, check. Socks, check. Sport bra, check. T-shirt…oh, for the love. I had meant to grab my trail run t-shirt, but in an early-morning fog I had mistakenly packed a pajama top. A long-sleeved pajama top. With buttons.

HMPH!!!

A few thoughts crossed my mind: (1) How is that even possible? Those are the only two pink items in my closet, and they’re drastically different. (2) There is no way I’m running in that. (3) Could I run WITHOUT a shirt?

#3 was the only thought that led to running, so I entertained it as long as I could. You know, Megan, you used to run without a shirt all the time. You’ve never seen anyone you know at the gym before, either. All you have to do is make it up the stairs and then you’ll be in the dark movie room. I bet no one would even notice you.

True…but no. I just can’t. I’ll feel ridiculous. And today would be the day that I see EVERYONE I know on the Eastern seaboard, and they’d see my pasty, untoned stomach. Not happening. So I went home. Disgruntled. Sad. Icky-feeling. Runless.

Hmph.